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MUSEUM 

OF  THE 

Geological  Survey  of  Alabama 

EUGENE  A.  SMITH,  Ph.  D.,  Director 

The  Museum  as  an  Educator 

...BY... 
HERBERT  H.  SMITH,  Curator 


THE  WCATHCRFORD   PRINTING  COMPANY 

TUSCALOOSA,  ALABAMA 

MAY,  1912 


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EDUCATIONAL  PAPERS.    I. 

THE  MUSEUM  AS  AN  EDUCATOR 

THE  MUSEUM  DEFINED. 

Presumably,  when  Mr.  P.  T.  Barnum  opened  a  stationary 
show  in  New  York  and  called  it  "Barnum's  Museum,"  he  was 
not  aiming  a  blow  at  science ;  but  science  felt  it,  and,  in  a 
measure,  is  feeling  it  yet.  At  that  time  real  public  museums 
were  hardly  known  in  this  country ;  so  Americans,  very  nat- 
urally, thought  only  of  the  bogus  one.  Barnum  was  not  the 
first  to  misuse  our  time-honored  name,  but  he  was  successful 
and  was  followed  by  cheap  imitators  who  made  matters  worse. 
To  this  day,  many  persons  suppose  that  a  museum  is  "a  place 
where  they  show  curiosities"  —  specifically,  dwarfs,  bearded 
ladies  and  two-headed  calves.  With  such  an  idea,  is  it  any 
wonder  that  they  are  indifferent  ? 

Fortunately  for  us,  this  absurdity  is  dying  out,  and  every 
well  informed  person  knows  that  the  museum  is  not  a  catch- 
penny show.  In  point  of  fact,  the  old  Greek  word  which  has 
come  down  to  us  through  the  Latin  has  not  changed  greatly  in 
meaning.  The  museum  was,  and  is,  a  temple  of  the  Muses,  the 
home  of  learning  and  art.  Painting,  sculpture  and  music,  his- 
tory and  science  gathered  in  the  old  Greek  temples — all  that 
was  noblest  and  best  in  a  glorious  civilization;  there  the  great 
philosophers  taught  and  authors  read  their  scrolls  and  Homer 
was  recited.  A  few  centuries  later  the  Museum  at  Alexandria 
was  a  library  and  university,  the  most  renowned  of  its  time. 

It  has  been  said,  and  truly,  that  museums  cannot  exist 
until  the  community  has  reached  a  high  state  of  civilization ; 
while  men  are  occupied  in  the  mere  struggle  for  existence  they 
have  small  leisure  and  less  inclination  to  cultivate  their  minds. 
There  were  no  museums  during  the  centuries  of  turmoil  that 
followed  the  destruction  of  ih°  Roman  Empire ;  there  was  none 
in  England  until  after  the  civil  wars,  until  the  English  were  no 
longer  satisfied  with  squalid  country-houses  and  gross  feeding 
and  the  bare  rudiments  of  knowledge,  but  were  reaching  after 

384706 


beauty  and  culture ;  there  was  none  in  America  until  the  pier 
neer  settlements  had  grown  into  rich  cities  and  ordered  com- 
munities. The  Renaissance  was  first  felt  in  Italy,  and  for  two 
or  three  centuries  that  was  the  most  enlightened  part  of  the 
world ;  it  is  significant  that  museums  were  formed  in  several 
Italian  cities,  and  they  are  the  oldest  in  Europe. 

Museums,  then,  mark  a  stage  in  civilization,  and  a  very 
advanced  stage ;  they  do  not  come  because  a  few  enthusiasts 
want  them,  but  because  the  community  is  ready.  Of  course 
there  are  plenty  of  men  who  can  see  no  use  in  them ;  men  who 
are  not  broad  enough  to  comprehend  that  the  world  is  advanc- 
ing and  needs  such  things  now,  though  it  did  without  them 
before.  They  use  the  old  argument,  "what  was  good  enough 
for  my  grandfather  is  good  enough  for  me."  Nonsense!  Your 
grandfather  could  jog  on  horseback,  but  your  automobile  is 
better  and  will  do  the  journey  in  half  the  time.  Your  grand- 
father was  satisfied  with  Yankee  Doodle ;  your  musical  taste 
has  been  cultivatsd  and  you  demand  Wagner.  Your  grand- 
father was  interested  in  potato  bugs,  and  you  want  an  entomo- 
logical collection — or  will  want  it  as  soon  as  you  appreciate 
its  charm. 

We  have  come  to  use  the  name  museum  in  a  special  way, 
for  an  institution  devoted  to  natural  science — geology,  biology 
and  their  kindred  branches;  for  convenience  I  shall  keep  to  the 
restricted  sense  in  this  paper.  But  I  should  explain  that  the 
word  has  been,  and  is,  used  for  many  cults.  The  British  Museum, 
at  first,  was  a  library  and  cabinet  of  antiquities,  to  which  other 
things  have  been  added.  The  Metropolitan  Museum  is  an  art 
gallery ;  the  Confederate  Museum  at  Richmond  is  historical;  we 
have  museums  of  textile  arts,  the  Patent  Office  Museum  and 
the  Post  Office  Museum.  All  these  have  a  perfect  right  to  the 
name ;  they  are  not  carried  on  for  money-making  and,  assured- 
ly, they  are  not  vulgar. 

Broadly  speaking,  a  museum  of  natural  history  has  three 
spheres  of  work :  1st,  scientific ;  2nd,  economic ;  3rd,  educational. 
I  shall  only  mention  the  first  two  incidentally ;  sometimes,  in- 
deed, the  economic  branch  is  largely  relegated  to  other  institu- 
tions. But  I  am  bound  to  call  your  attention  to  one  fact,  and 
it  cannot  be  impressed  too  strongly.  The  economic  and  educa- 

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tional  branches  spring  from  the  scientific  one  and  are  nourished 
by  it.  We  cannot  teach  or  use  science  unless  we  have  it  our- 
selves, and  we  cannot  have  it  without  patient  study.  Well- 
arranged  exhibition  rooms  are  not  mere  matters  of  individual 
taste ;  they  depend  on  well-arranged  collections,  the  result  of 
years  of  labor  by  specialists.  The  scientific  work  is  out  of  sight, 
and  a  chance  visitor  may  imagine  that  it  is  neglected  or  un- 
important ;  in  simple  truth,  the  museum  could  not  exist  with- 
out it.  The  demagogue  who  urges  that  we  should  have  nothing 
bat  exhibition  rooms  or  public  lectures  or  economic  work  is 
preaching  an  absurdity ;  he  might  as  well  say  that  a  compass 
and  drawing  table  are  all  that  is  necessary  for  an  engineer  and 
that  he  has  no  use  for  mathematics ;  he  might  as  well  expect 
a  carpenter  to  work  without  tools  or  a  farmer  to  plant  with- 
out seed. 

THE  EDUCATIONAL  MUSEUM. 

Like  everything  else,  the  museum  is  an  evolution.  In  its 
infancy  it  was  little  more  than  a  collection,  open  to  a  few  spec- 
ialists but  barred  against  the  general  public.  The  first  exhibi- 
tion marked  an  era  in  education.  Of  course,  its  promoters  had 
no  idea  of  this ;  they  enjoyed  looking  at  the  specimens,  they 
were  good-natured  and  wanted  to  share  their  pleasure  with 
other  people ;  that  was  all.  The  means  at  their  disposal  were 
inadequate ;  some  dark  iittle  rooms,  shelves  and  cases  which, 
fortunately,  concealed  more  than  they  revealed.  Compare  this, 
for  instance,  with  the  American  Museum  of  Natural  History  at 
New  York.  It  is  planned  to  cover  four  city  blocks  and  already 
occupies  a  great  part  of  two.  Four  stories  are  devoted  to  mag- 
nificent exhibition  halls,  nearly  two  miles  of  them,  where  every 
case  is  as  nearly  perfect  as  science  and  art  can  make  it.  In 
truth,  the  very  richness  of  the  place  is  bewildering ;  wiser  per- 
sons go  only  to  one  hall,  or  two.  Everywhere  you  see  groups 
of  visitors,  quiet  people,  some  fashionably  dressed,  but  there  is 
a  good  sprinkling  of  workmen  with  now  and  then  a  bare-footed 
boy ;  teachers  lead  their  classes  from  one  object  to  another ; 
students  work  with  note-book  and  pencil ;  here  a  school  boy 
hangs  over  some  case  and  perhaps  you  may  see  him  comparing 
specimens  which  he  has  brought.  In  these  halls  the  museum 

3 


has  gathered  the  work  of  hundreds  of  skilled  men,  it  has  ex- 
pended years  of  anxious  thought  and  study  and  millions  of 
dollars.  They  are  strictly  and  solely  educative.  The  rooms  are 
not  a  gift  to  science ;  they  are  a  gift  from  science  to  educa- 
tion and  the  world,  and  for  this  science  has  enlisted  art,  in- 
genuity, money,  anything  and  everything  that  makes  to  her 
end — teaching.  Any  one  who  imagines  that  the  naturalist 
needs  tnese  cases  for  his  work  has  simply  no  conception  of 
scientific  methods.  The  study  collections  are  out  of  sight,  in 
laboratories  and  store-rooms  on  the  top  floor ;  plain  cabinets 
and  drawers  contain  far  more  specimens  than  the  public  cases, 
but  but  they  are  arranged  compactly,  for  reference.  There  is 
no  attempt  to  make  things  attractive ;  the  naturalist  wants  well- 
preserved  specimens,  but  an  unmounted  skin  is  better  for  his 
purpose  than  a  mounted  one  and  a  tightly-closing  insect-box 
than  a  glass-covered  one.  The  American  Museum  is  doing 
splendid  scientific  work,  but  not  because  it  has  exhibition  rooms. 
It  is  significant,  however,  that  this  and  other  large  institutions 
give  more  money  to  the  educational  branch  than  they  do  to 
the  scientific  one. 

THE  MUSEUM  AN  OBJECT  LESSON. 

Every  experienced  teacher  knows  the  value  of  object- 
lessons.  If  you  tell  a  kindergarten  child  that  a  plane  triangle 
has  three  sides  meeting  in  three  angles  he  will  have  no  con- 
ception of  your  meaning ;  show  him  a  cardboard  triangle  and 
he  will  comprehend  at  once.  The  pupil  in  geography  may  read 
that  polar  bears  and  musk-oxen  live  within  the  arctic  circle, 
but  the  words  have  only  a  hazy  meaning ;  his  real  impression 
comes  from  a  picture  at  the  top  of  the  page.  Show  him  a 
bear-skin  and  he  is  interested ;  show  him  one  of  the  splendid 
group  cases  in  a  museum,  with  savage  white  bears  in  their  icy 
home,  and  the  interest  rises  to  enthusiasm.  No  doubt  a  visit 
to  the  zoological  garden  would  be  still  more  effective  and  a 
hunting  trip  to  Greenland  best  of  all.  But  we  cannot  take  our 
classes  all  over  the  world,  and  we  cannot  often  see  zoological  or 
botanical  gardens  or  aquaria.  The  museum  is  accessible,  it  is 
convenient  for  classes  or  pupils,  and  it  is  attractive ;  people 
learn  unconsciously,  whether  they  want  to  or  not.  In  other 

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words,  the  museum  system  is  object-teaching  applied  to  natural 
science  and  carried  to  the  highest  degree  of  perfection. 

GROWTH  OF  THE  MUSEUM  IDEA. 

From  the  dark  little  rooms  of  bygone  days  to  the  National 
Museum,  or  the  American,  may  seem  a  far  call ;  but  one  has 
grown  out  of  the  other  just  as  surely  as  the  oak  grows  from  an 
acorn.  And  the  constant  feature  of  this  growth  has  been  im- 
provement on  every  line — buildings,  rooms,  cases,  specimens^ 
arrangement,  labels  and,  above  all,  methods.  In  our  day  a 
mineral  or  fossil  intended  for  exhibition  is  carefully  selected 
from  perhaps  a  thousand  others ;  all  extraneous  matter  is  clip- 
ped off,  and  the  object  is  as  clean  as  soap  and  water  will  make 
it ;  it  is  mounted  on  a  block  or  placed  in  a  tray,  neatly  and  legi- 
bly labeled,  and  protected  from  dust  by  a  tight  case  of  the  best 
and  cleanest  glass.  Some  fossil  species — skeletons  of  mammals 
or  huge  saurians — are  known  only  by  single  specimens,  or  one 
specimen  only  may  be  perfect.  Of  course,  such  an  object  must 
be  kept  in  one  museum;  formerly  the  world  at  large  could 
kno\v  it  only  by  pictures  and  descriptions.  The  use  of  plaster 
casts  has  made  it  possible  to  reproduce  these  treasures  of 
science  for  other  museums ;  a  score  or  a  hundred  may  be  made 
from  a  single  specimen,  and  for  educational  purposes  they  are 
just  as  good  as  the  originals.  An  extinct  species  is  often  known 
from  fragmentary  specimens,  but  by  studying  a  large  number 
of  these  the  naturalist  can  reconstruct  the  creature  in  his  own 
mind.  It  remains  only  to  reconstruct  it  in  a  drawing  or  a 
plaster  cast ;  this  has  been  done  many  times,  and  the  resulting 
models  are  invaluable  for  our  exhibition  rooms.  That  useful 
substance,  plaster,  also  gives  us  relief  maps,  models  of  volcanoes 
and  glaciers,  geological  sections  and  so  on. 

TAXIDERMY  AND  GROUP-CASES. 

The  old-time  naturalist  was  his  own  hunter,  and  often  a 
very  good  one ;  but  he  was  also  his  own  preparator,  and  almost 
always  a  very  bad  one.  With  the  demand  for  better  mounted 
specimens  came  taxidermy — at  first  a  trade,  but  now  a  fine  art, 
almost  worthy  to  stand  with  painting  and  sculpture.  The  ob- 

5 


ject  of  a  modern  group-case  is  to  show  birds  or  animals  exactly 
as  they  would  be  in  their  native  haunts;  a  forest  home  as  the 
hunter  sees  it  sometimes,  but  as  you  and  I  can  not  see  it  ex- 
cept by  rare  chance  or  infinite  care.  Portrait  painters  study 
faces  at  their  leisure,  in  all  lights  and  under  all  conditions  ;  but 
to  catch  the  finer  characters  they  must  have  many  sittings. 
Animals,  too,  have  character  and  expression,  and  it  is  far  more 
difficult  to  observe  them.  The  naturalist  cannot  choose  place 
and  time ;  he  must  devote  weeks  or  months  or  years  to  his  task. 
With  softest  footsteps  and  every  sense  alert  he  steals  to  some 
point  of  vantage,  for  these  are  timid  creatures ;  a  waft  of  air 
may  betray  him,  or  a  broken  twig,  and  all  his  care  is  lost.  If 
he  does  glimpse  the  scene  it  is  through  a  tangle  of  foliage  that 
he  dares  not  brush  aside ;  quick  eye  and  quicker  camera  are 
busy  for  an  instant  and  then — his  models  have  disappeared; 
to  all  appearance  there  is  not  an  animal  within  a  thousand 
miles.  If  the  man  is  a  true  artist  he  will  return  again  and 
again,  watching  for  chances,  studying  every  detail,  absorbing 
the  picture  until  he  has  made  it  his  own ;  then  it  may  go  down 
to  the  ages. 

It  speaks  well  for  such  enthusiasts  that  they  rarely  disturb 
the  home  they  have  studied ;  other  individuals  of  the  species 
will  serve  the  purpose  as  well,  and  even  these  are  only  killed 
because  they  must  be.  Then  the  taxidermist — who  may  be  the 
same  man  or  another — takes  up  the  task.  No  gentleman  is 
more  carefully  measured  for  the  coat  which  he  will  wear  than 
the  forest  creature  is  for  the  coat  that  is  to  be  taken  off. 
Generally  a  single  opening  is  made  and  the  skin  is  taken  off  as 
a  lady  removes  her  glove,  but  more  carefully,  to  prevent  stretch- 
ing. A  plaster  cast  of  the  carcass  is  made,  sometimes  in  sec- 
tions if  the  animal  is  a  large  one.  In  a  final  visit  to  the  home 
scene,  samples  of  earth  and  plants  are  gathered ;  these  are  to 
be  reproduced  in  papier  mache*.  Sometimes,  if  the  den  or  nest 
is  not  too  large,  it  is  taken  away  entire,  or  parts  may  be  taken. 
Foot-prints  are  copied  in  plaster ;  if  the  animal  is  carnivorous, 
refuse  bones  and  feathers  are  picked  up  after  noting  their  exact 
positions ;  dead  mussel-shells,  fragments  of  nuts  and  gnawed 
twigs  are  preserved  if  they  are  part  of  the  scene,  or  the  root  of 
a  tree  is  dug  up  if  there  is  a  burrow  beneath. 

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Most  of  the  old-fashioned  "stuffed"  animals  were  carica- 
tures ;  our  modern  taxidermists  slip  a  skin  over  the  plaster 
mold,  a  vast  improvement.  But  the  finer  touches  may  go  on 
for  months,  and  the  artist  always  has  photographs  before  him ; 
every  bit  of  the  skin  is  manipulated,  every  swell  and  fold  and 
feature ;  moods  are  depicted  in  tense  muscle  or  snarling  lips ; 
hardly  a  hair  is  left  untouched.  Meanwhile  the  accessories — 
plants,  rocks,  ground  or  water — are  built  in  by  trained  model- 
ers. A  dust-proof  case  of  suitable  form  and  size  is  ordered ; 
for  a  large  group,  this  alone  may  cost  several  thousand  dollars. 
At  length  the  result  is  placed  in  the  public  rooms — an  exact 
reproduction  of  animal  home  life. 

It  is  folly  to  speak  of  such  an  exhibit  as  a  "show."  At- 
tractive it  is,  but  attractive  because  it  combines  scientific 
method  with  the  highest  art ;  and  it  teaches  as  nothing  else 
can,  because  it  appeals  to  eye  and  understanding  alike. 

A  museum  like  that  at  Washington  may  keep  a  whole 
corps  of  taxidermists  in  its  employ,  reinforced  by  a  corps  of 
modelers.  A  very  large  case — say  of  musk-oxen  or  giraffes — 
may  be  the  work  of  years,  with  several  arduous  expeditions ; 
and  thirty  or  forty  thousand  dollars  will  not  cover  the  expense. 

I  have  dwelt  on  these  group-cases  because  they  are,  per- 
haps, nearer  perfection  than  anything  else  in  our  exhibition 
rooms.  Almost  equally  fine  are  some  of  the  ethnological  ex- 
hibits, figures  of  Indians  modeled  in  clay.  In  other  departments 
various  devices  are  used.  For  example,  preserved  fish  speci- 
mens soon  lose  their  brilliant  tints,  though  they  serve  perfectly 
well  for  study.  Many  museums  now  show  casts  of  fishes  and 
batrachians,  taken  from  fresh  specimens  and  colored  to  the  life; 
these,  of  course,  are  useless  for  anatomy  and  they  do  not  show 
microscopic  surface  characters,  but  for  the  ordinary  observer 
they  reproduce  the  living  creature.  A  "biological  case"  of  in- 
sects depicts  the  life  history,  eggs,  larvae  in  different  stages, 
pupa,  imago,  food-plant,  nest,  burrow  or  coccoon,  and  destruc- 
tive parasites;  if  the  species  is  injurious  to  crops,  such  a  case 
may  have  special  value  for  the  farmer.  Enlarged  models  of 
insects  are  a  recent  and  useful  addition.  Shells  are  attractive 
always,  but  we  supplement  the  conchological  collections  by 
sections  and  papier-mache"  models.  Large  Crustacea  are  mount- 

7 


ed  to  show  their  structure,  dried  star-fishes  and  sea-urchins  are 
placed  beside  drawings  of  the  curiously  dissimilar  young.  For 
years  such  objects  as  jelly-fishes  and  sponges  could  not  be 
shown  at  all;  now  they  are  imitated,  fairly  well,  in  glass;  and 
we  have  enlarged  glass  models  of  microscopic  creatures.  At- 
tempts have  even  been  made  to  show  coral-reefs  and  wave- 
washed  rocks,  teeming  with  life.  Bear  in  mind  again  that  all 
these  things  are  for  popular  education.  The  naturalist,  with  his 
microscope  and  dissecting  knives,  with  his  patient  field  studies, 
his  camera  and  note-book,  has  no  need  for  such  artifiicial  aids. 

LABELS. 

The  label  may  seem  a  very  simple  matter,  but  labels  have 
been  improved  almost  as  much  as  cases  have.  At  first  they 
were  written  slips  of  paper,  often  out  of  sight  or  illegible  and, 
at  most,  giving  only  the  Latin  name  and  the  locality.  Then 
the  English  name  was  added — a  concession  of  pedantry  to  com- 
mon sense.  But  the  public  wanted  to  learn  something  more 
than  the  name,  so  a  line  or  two  of  information  was  put  in. 
Now  we  have  the  large  descriptive  label,  not  written,  but  print- 
ed in  clear,  bold  type,  so  that  it  can  be  read  across  the  case ;  in 
effect  it  is  a  short  popular  lecture  about  the  objects  shown.  It 
was  Dr.  Baird,  I  believe,  who  said  that  a  public  museum  should 
be  "a  collection  of  labels  with  specimens  to  illustrate  them." 
From  one  point  of  view  he  was  right. 

METHODS. 

The  finest  exhibits  may  be  spoiled  for  educational  pur- 
poses if  they  are  not  properly  arranged  and  used  in  the  right 
way.  Here  the  changes  have  been  well-nigh  revolutionary. 
Naturalists,  like  other  people,  make  mistakes;  like  other  people, 
if  they  are  sensible  they  draw  lessons  from  their  own  failures. 
For  instance,  all  the  older  museums  were  encumbered  with 
cases  which  were  good  in  their  way,  but  which,  from  an  edu- 
cational point  of  view,  were  worse  than  useless ;  they  were  there 
because  museum  men  had  not  learned  to  put  themselves  in 
other  people's  places.  A  naturalist,  working  for  twenty  years, 
perhaps,  had  accumulated  a  very  fine  collection ;  he  was  proud 

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of  it  and  delighted  in  showing  it  to  his  friends.  Nothing  seem- 
ed more  natural  than  to  place  the  whole  on  exhibition  and  so 
let  the  public  get  the  benefit  of  it.  But  the  naturalist  forgot 
that  the  public  could  not  see  with  his  eyes  and  appreciate  with 
his  mind.  He  was  a  trained  specialist,  delighting  in  nice  points 
of  structure,  relations  and  differences  of  species,  a  thousand 
and  one  things  that  the  public  did  not  notice  at  all.  He  had 
brought  his  specimens  together  one  by  one,  examined  and  re- 
examined  them  until  each  was  an  old  friend,  to  be  recognized 
at  a  glance ;  he  knew  that  this  species  was  exceedingly  rare, 
that  one  group  was  the  most  complete  of  its  kind  in  the  world 
and  another  had  been  monographed  by  a  master.  The  public 
had  no  such  familiarity  and,  when  the  specimens  were  ranged 
in  a  case,  could  see  nothing  but  mass ;  eye  and  mind  could  not 
take  in  the  details  simply  because  there  were  so  many  of  them. 
Now  we  show  only  a  small  part  of  the  collection,  species  re- 
markable for  beauty  or  interest,  and  the  tendency  is  to  elimi- 
nate more  and  more. 

Naturalists  erred,  also,  in  crowding  the  shelves  and  so  con- 
fusing subjects ;  the  simpler  an  exhibit  is  the  better  for  its 
purpose.  An  ideal  case  would  be  devoted  to  one  subject  only, 
having  enough  specimens  to  illustrate  it,  but  no  more ;  that  is 
one  reason  why  group  cases  are  so  attractive.  We  can  only 
reach  the  ideal  here  and  there ;  but  we  can  group  the  objects 
and  so  keep  them  from  spoiling  each  other. 

It  may  be  a  question  whether  our  larger  museums  do  not, 
sometimes,  confuse  by  trying  to  do  too  much,  to  illustrate  too 
many  subjects.  We  may  epitomize  geology  or  zoology  in  a  single 
text-book,  but  it  is  for  study,  to  be  digested  during  several 
months ;  the  beginner  who  tried  to  read  it  through  at  a  sitting 
would  only  find  himself  bewildered.  Naturalists  themselves 
know  how  hard  it  is  to  cover  every  branch ;  in  our  day  they 
are  all  specialists.  Yet  a  dozen  curators,  each  a  specialist  in 
his  own  department,  will  unite  their  exhibits  in  a  single  mu- 
seum, and  the  average  visitor  expects  to  see  the  whole  thing  in 
one  afternoon.  Of  course,  this  is  beyond  any  man's  power ;  he 
enjoys  two  or  three  rooms,  but  the  feast  ends  in  surfeit  and 
weariness.  With  more  experience  he  will  learn  to  divide  it  up; 
but  we  ought  to  make  it  enjoyable  from  the  first  day.  It  is  a 

9 


pity  that  we  cannot  restrict  visits,  for  the  time  being,  to  a  part 
of  the  museum ;  sometimes  I  think  that  we  shall  find  means 
of  doing  so.  The  visitor  would  have  quite  enough  to  satisfy 
his  mind,  he  would  see  more  and  learn  more  and  would 
certainly  enjoy  himself  better.  The  little  Post  Office  Museum 
at  Washington  is  a  gem  in  its  way ;  personally,  I  enjoy  a  visit 
to  it  more  than  I  do  a  walk  through  the  great  National  Museum. 
Not  that  I  am  particularly  interested  in  post-offices,  and  I  cer- 
tainly am  interested  in  many  things  which  the  larger  museum 
exhibits.  But  the  Post  Office  collection  relates  to  one  subject 
only — post-offices ;  with  that  always  in  mind,  you  understand 
every  object  and  examine  it  carefully  without  the  slightest  fa- 
tigue; the  hall  is  like  a  very  entertaining 'book.  I  can  imagine 
that  each  department  of  the  National  Museum  would  be  more 
effective  if  it  were  separated  from  the  others  by  space  or  time- 
Quite  possibly  that  may  be  the  next  great  improvement. 

One  more  feature  should  be  mentioned.  Quite  often,  if  a 
large  party  or  a  school  class  comes  to  the  museum,  some  cura- 
tor walks  around  with  it,  explaining  cases,  calling  attention  to 
interesting  things,  perhaps  taking  out  specimens  and  letting 
pupils  examine  them  one  by  one.  Of  course  this  adds  im- 
mensely to  the  interest,  and  such  little  scientific  lectures,  com- 
ing from  an  expert,  are  really  valuable ;  besides,  the  visitors 
linger  about  a  few  cases  and  really  see  them  instead  of  catch- 
ing a  hasty  glance.  Quite  recently  some  museums  have  em- 
ployed instructors  who  are  at  the  service  of  all  visitors ;  the 
plan  has  worked  well  and,  no  doubt,  will  be  widely  adopted. 
As  for  guide-books,  those  were  introduced  long  ago ;  but  a  guide- 
book cannot  answer  questions. 

Mr.  Chapman,  of  the  American  Museum  of  Natural  His- 
tory, told  me  of  a  visit  from  Hellen  Keller ;  she  was  quite  a 
young  girl  then,  and  came  with  her  teacher.  Mr.  Chapman 
was  showing  some  birds — I  use  the  word  advisedly,  for  this 
wonderful  child  could  see  in  her  own  way.  He  took  out  a  bird 
of  paradise — a  mounted  specimen — and  Helen  passed  her  sen- 
sitive fingers  over  the  plumage.  "It  is  a  crown  of  glory"  she 
said.  Could  any  description  be  more  graphic? 


10 


THE  MUSEUM  EXTENSION  IDEA. 

Almost  every  museum  man  likes  to  help  other  naturalists, 
and  he  likes  especially  to  encourage  beginners ;  so  another  form 
of  museum  influence  has  grown  almost  spontaneously.  For 
years  such  work  was  carried  on  without  any  fixed  plan,  just  as 
occasions  offered ;  even  so  it  was  of  very  real  value,  and  I  ques- 
tion whether  it  has  not  done  more  to  develop  a  taste  for  na- 
ture-study than  the  exhibition  rooms  themselves.  Some  one 
sends  a  fossil  or  shell  and  asks  for  information  about  it ;  the 
specimen  is  returned,  neatly  labeled  and  prQbably  with  a  letter 
of  information.  The  high  school  has  a  collection — objects  brought 
in  by  the  pupils — but  they  are  all  in  confusion  and  tend  rather 
to  discourage  than  to  promote  enthusiasm ;  the  museum  is  ap- 
pealed to,  the  collection  is  arranged  and  very  likely  the  class 
gets  a  free  lecture  on  field  work.  Some  bright  boy  catches  a 
few  butterflies  and  tries  to  preserve  them ;  he  has  an  inborn 
taste  for  the  work  but  is  discouraged  because  he  does  not  know 
how  to  mount  and  classify  his  specimens ;  the  naturalist 
befriends  him  and  a  new  amateur  collection  is  started.  Such 
things  happen  every  day,  and  museum  curators  give  more  time 
to  them  than  people  would  imagine.  All  this  may  seem  tri- 
vial and,  in  truth,  a  single  case  would  not  be  worth  mention- 
ing ;  but  a  thousand  cases,  taken  collectively,  amount  to  an 
important  movement.  This  is,  indeed,  the  undercurrent  of 
museum  influence,  none  the  less  strong  because  it  is  unseen. 

Of  late  years  the  outside  work  has  been  more  or  less  sys- 
tematized ;  in  other  words,  there  is  a  clear  effort  to  carry  mu- 
seum education  beyond  the  museum  doors.  That  the  movement 
is  in  its  infancy  we  cannot  doubt ;  that  it  must  go  through  an 
experimental  period  and  meet  with  some  failures  is  certain. 
But  its  growth  has  been  wonderful.  Thirty  years  ago  the 
American  Museum  prepared  a  few  loan  exhibits — specimens 
which  were  lent  to  schools  on  application  and  for  limited  pe- 
riods. Other  institutions  improved  on  the  idea  and  established 
regular  circulating  cases  which  traveled  from  school  to  school ; 
in  particular  instances  collections  were  even  given  outright. 
By  this  time  all  the  city  museums  had  lecture  courses,  some 
for  teachers,  others  for  school  classes,  and  the  latter  might  be 

11 


in  the  museum  lecture-hall  or  in  the  school.  The  public  re- 
sponded, as  it  does  to  generous  efforts  wisely  used.  In  some 
cities  the  interest,  coming  after  years  of  apathy,  was  simply  as- 
tonishing. I  saw  such  an  awakening  at  Pittsburgh ;  it  was  so 
sudden  that  it  surprised  everybody  and  so  universal  that  the 
very  air  seemed  full  of  it.  School  children — some  of  them  the 
merest  tots — were  gathering  specimens ;  parents  and  teachers 
were  enthusiastic ;  the  papers  were  full  of  the  movement  and 
our  museum  was  beseiged  by  reporters.  Some  of  the  Grammar 
School  and  High  School  boys  started  a  nature-club — the  "An- 
drew Carnegie  Society" — meeting  in  a  room  which  the  Museum 
Trustees  opened  to  them  and  making  weekly  collecting  excur- 
sions. I  may  tell  of  that  club  in  another  paper;  it  is  enough  to  say 
here  that  it  did  and  is  still  doing  noble  work;  that  it  is  as  en- 
thusiastic as  ever,  with  250  members  and  annual  meetings 
where  the  boys  may  hear  speeches  from  a  governor  or  two  and 
the  governors  certainly  hear  the  boys,  and  learn  something,  too. 
Pittsburg  teachers  "swear  by"  the  Andrew  Carnegie  Club ;  it  is 
a  feature  in  the  school  system  and  has  a  regular  place  in  the 
museum  reports. 

Our  cities  recognized  the  value  of  museums  long  ago,  and 
they  are  recognizing  the  new  departure.  The  latest  and  strong- 
est proof  of  this  comes  from  Chicago ;  twenty  years  ago  the 
whole  country  would  have  been  ringing  with  it,  but  twenty 
years  ago  nobody  would  have  planned  such  a  thing;  the  world 
had  not  advanced  so  far.  I  quote  from  the  Report  of  the  Di- 
rector of  the  Field  Museum,  dated  Jan.,  1912: — 

"The  announcemet,  late  in  December,  of  Mr.  Norman  W.  Harris*  im- 
portant contribution  of  $250,000  for  the  extension  of  the  work  of  the  Mu- 
seum into  the  public  schools  of  Chicago  was  greeted  by  the  press  and  peo- 
ple of  the  city  with  marked  concert  of  congratulation.  The  plans  for 
carrying  out  Mr.  Harris'  wishes  have  not  as  yet  been  more  than  outlined, 
but  the  project  is  receiving  the  careful  deliberation  of  the  director,  the 
curators  of  the  Museum  and  the  officials  of  the  Board  of  Education.  It 
will  take  several  months  to  arrive  at  even  a  tentative  working  plan.  This 
rare  donation  to  the  cause  of  education  and  public  welfare  will  give  life 
and  light  to  the  routine  of  the  schools,  instill  love  of  nature  into  the 
scholars,  make  for  good  citizenship  and  constantly  increase  the  friends 
and  frequenters  of  the  Museum.  It  is  a  wise,  far-seeing  and  perpetual 
benefaction." 

Here,  in  dry,  official  language,  is  chronicled  an  event  which 

12 


means  more  than  a  new  university  and  far  more  than  the  at- 
tainment of  the  North  Pole.  It  is  not  only  that  the  gift  is  the 
greatest  of  its  kind;  it  shows  that  the  community  has  recogniz- 
ed a  new  force  and  knows  its  value;  that  one  philanthropist,  at 
least,  is  ready  to  devote  a  fortune  to  it.  A  Chicago  man,  even 
a  rich  and  generous  one,  does  not  give  away  a  quarter  of  a  mil- 
lion without  very  good  reason.  Results  are  sure  to  justify  the 
act;  they  may  end  in  revolutionizing  education  so  far  as  natural 
science  is  concerned. 

The  key-note  of  museum  extension  is  helpfulness :  we  must 
be  ready  and  eager  to  aid  individuals,  schools,  communities. 
More  than  that,  we  must  advertise  our  willingness;  people  hesi- 
tate to  "take  the  time"  of  a  curator  unless  they  know  that  he  is 
there  to  have  his  time  taken,  that  it  is  his  duty  and  pleasure  to 
serve  them;  metaphorically,  the  sign  "no  trouble  to  show  goods" 
should  be  posted  all  over  our  walls.  And  it  is  not  enough  to 
encourage  those  who  come  to  us;  we  should  strive  by  every 
means  to  awaken  interest  and  foster  it,  until  people  love  nature 
as  we  do. 

THE  MOVEMENT  IN  THE  SOUTH. 

Agricultural  communities  are  the  last  to  feel  a  world-move- 
ment. For  years,  the  interest  in  nature-study  has  been  spread- 
ing like  a  great  wave;  in  Europe,  in  the  Northern  and  Pacific 
states,  it  is  seen  everywhere;  but  here  in  the  Southland  we  hard- 
ly know  that  such  a  thing  exists.  It  is  not  that  we  are  less 
progressive;  it  is  not,  in  the  least,  because  our  people  are  less 
intelligent  or  less  appreciative.  Taste  and  aptitude  are  exactly 
the  same  as  elsewhere;  once  awakened  they  will  spring  into 
vigorous  life.  And  the  impulse  must  come  from  museums  just 
as  it  has  come  in  other  sections.  Our  people  are  more  or  less 
indifferent  now;  a  few  years  hence  they  will  wonder  at  their  own 
indifference.  For,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  a  community  does 
not  know  what  it  needs  until  it  gets  it;  a  few  individuals  see 
farther,  and  they  know,  and  give  their  lives,  perhaps,  to  supply 
the  need;  then  people  are  quick  to  use  the  gift  and  wonder  how 
they  did  without  it.  In  an  isolated  region  the  farmers  are  apt  to 
oppose  a  new  railroad;  but  if  a  few  enterprising  men  put  the 
road  through  the  farmer's  crops  are  moved,  the  farmer's  family 

13 


is  better  off,  his  children  go  to  school  and  college,  the  whole 
status  of  life  is  raised.  That  is  exactly  the  condition  of  our 
states  in  regard  to  museums;  they  see  no  particular  use  for 
them — in  a  word,  are  indifferent.  Do  other  communities  think 
as  we  do?  Let  the  facts  speak. 

APPRECIATION  OF  MUSEUMS. 

Forty  years  ago  New  York  had  a  small  natural  history  mu- 
seum, supported  by  the  city.  It  occupied  aa  old  armory  build- 
ing in  Central  Park  and  was  more  or  less  under  the  control  of 
ward  politicians — as  far  as  they  cared  to  control  a  thing  that 
gave  them  neither  jobs  nor  votes.  However,  the  place  had  a 
curator  who  did  what  he  could;  he  saw  the  importance  of  large 
casts  of  extinct  animals  and,  with  some  trouble,  got  an  appro- 
priation for  making  them;  an  English  expert  was  employed.  Of 
course,  his  work-room  contained  a  large  number  of  unfinished 
objects — they  had  already  cost  $10,000, 1  believe.  It  happened 
that  the  modeler  was  absent  when  a  new  park  commissioner 
came  along;  he  saw  the  littered  room  and  instantly  ordered 
workmen  to  "clear  out  this  rubbish."  That  and  a  few  other 
occurrences  of  the  kind  were  too  much  even  for  New  York— 
and  those  were  the  days  of  Tweed  rule,  when  almost  everybody 
cringed  to  the  "bosses."  The  American  Museum  Association  was 
formed,  and  it  bought  land  outside  of  the  park  so  that  it  might 
be  forever  free  from  politicial  interference.  Its  trustees  were 
prominent  citizens;  the  president  was  a  millionaire  banker  and 
for  years  he  acted  as  director.  Today  this  museum  is  the  great- 
est in  America,  not  even  excepting  the  National;  millions  of 
dollars  have  been  expended  willingly  for  popular  education,  and 
practically  all  of  it  comes  from  individual  donors;  the  Board  of 
Trustees  includes  nearly  all  the  multi-millionares  of  New  York. 
Do  hard-headed  business  men  give  their  time  and  money  to  an 
institution  unless  they  are  convinced  of  its  value?  And  nobody 
who  sees  the  well-frequented  rooms,  nobody  who  watches  the 
crowd  of  teachers  or  children  going  to  a  lecture,  can  doubt  that 
they  are  right. 

Mr.  Marshall  Field  was  a  merchant  of  Chicago — one  of  the 
most  successful  in  the  world  and  the  first  to  plan  and  carry  on 

14 


a  mail-order  system.  He  gave  some  million  dollars  to  found 
the  Field  Museum— an  institution  that  Chicago  is  justly  proud 
of.  Only  a  few  years  before  that  gift,  a  Chicago  rich  man 
wrote  to  me : — "Our  city  has  enough  to  do  rebuilding  itself 
after  the  fire;  we  have  no  use  for  fossils/'  The  last  word 
was  underlined  to  emphasize  his  scorn  of  such  things.  Today 
the  Field  Museum  has  120,000  fossils  on  its  catalogue  and  is 
sending  expeditions  after  more. 

Measured  by  the  census,  Milwaukee  stands  in  the  second 
rank  among  American  cities.  It  has  a  thriving  public  museum, 
supported  mainly  by  a  special  annual  tax  authorized  by  the 
state  and  city  governments  and  based  on  a  fixed  proportion  of 
the  assessed  valuation  of  taxable  property  in  the  city;  at  first 
the  limit  was  fixed  at  1-10  of  a  mill  on  the  dollar,  but  in  1897 
this  was  raised  to  1-7  of  a  mill;  I  have  no  recent  figures  at  hand, 
but  in  1907  the  sum  thus  provided  was  $28,797.  That  is,  the 
museum  is  assured  of  funds,  not  only  by  special  appropriations 
but  by  special  tax,  and  this  by  act  of  the  legislature  in  one  of 
our  most  progressive  states.  Nor  is  the  tax  a  severe  one.  It 
does  not  touch  salaries,  and  poor  men  really  pay  nothing. 

Having  thus  substantially  shown  her  appreciation  of  the 
Museum,  Milwaukee  might  have  folded  her  hands.  But  in  1884, 
when  $12,000  was  needed  to  buy  a  collection,  the  amount  was 
raised  by  popular  subscription;  since  then  several  other  collec- 
tions have  been  bought  in  the  same  way.  In  his  report  for 
1906-1907  the  Director  says: — "Donations  of  specimens  and  col- 
lections have  ranged  from  the  bequest  of  Rudolph  J.  Nunne- 
macher  of  his  collection  of  1,815  objects,  inventoried  at  $70,030, 
and  of  $10,000  for  its  increase,  to  the  butterfly  or  dead  bird 
brought  in  by  a  primary  school  child/'  * 


*  The  Director  of  the  Milwaukee  Museum,  in  a  recent  letter  to  the  Author,  said: — 
"We  are  preparing  to  do  a  good  deal  in  the  way  of  education;  not  but  what  we  have  been 
doing  a  fair  amount,  but  that  is  small  compared  with  what  we  intend  to  do.  A  few 
months  ago  we  appointed  a  Curator  of  Education,  who  will  come  to  us  in  July.  By  fall 
we  expect  our  addition  to  the  building  to  be  in  commission,  with  a  lecture  hall  seating 
something  over  750  and  one,  or  perhaps  two,  smaller  lecture  halls,  so  that  we  are  going 
to  push  the  educational  end  of  our  work,  reaching  the  grammar  school  children,  their 
teachers,  high  school  pupils,  various  more  or  less  selected  groups  of  the  public  and  the 
general  public.  I  enclose  circulars  of  our  Bird  Class  and  Botany  Class." 

15 


THE  TRUE  VALUE  OF  MUSEUMS. 

Granting  all  that  I  have  urged;  granting  that  museums  are 
vastly  improved,  that  millions  have  been  spent  on  them,  that 
they  do  educate  the  people  and  educate  without  weariness; 
granting  that  they  encourage  amateurs  and  awaken  nature-love 
in  our  children  and  give  pleasure  to  thousands  and  are  thor- 
oughly appreciated;  there  still  remains  an  argument  against 
them  so  plausible  that  it  has  deceived  very  intelligent  people. 
Consciously  or  unconsciously,  I  believe  it  is  in  the  minds  of 
many  when  they  are  urged,  as  individuals  or  as  legislators,  to 
aid  in  our  work.  A  thinker  may  put  it  something  like  this: — 

"Museums  and  nature-study  are  good  in  their  way  and  sat- 
isfy refined  tastes;  but,  after  all,  they  are  luxuries;  if  they  mark 
a  high  stage  of  civilization  it  is  because  civilization  breeds  lux- 
ury. It  would  be  unwise  to  tax  the  community  for  their  sup- 
port, because  the  community  can  do  without  them  very  well; 
only  a  few  people  want  them  and,  in  strict  justice,  they  them- 
selves should  pay  for  what'  they  get.  Those  gentlemen  in  New 
York  and  Chicago  are  wealthy  and  can  afford  to  gratify  their 
own  tastes  while  giving  pleasure  to  other  people;  our  case  is  dif- 
ferent. In  such  matters  we  should  be  slow  in  imitating  a  state 
like  Wisconsin  and  a  city  like  Milwaukee;  some  of  their  ideas 
are  decidedly  dangerous." 

I  frankly  beg  the  gentleman's  pardon — he  is  a  gentleman— 
for  paraphrasing  his  objection  by  putting  it  into  the  mouth 
of — let  us  say — a  "professional"  politician.  It  is  necessary  for 
my  argument. 

"If  you  fellows  want  to  catch  bugs  and  dig  fossils  you're 
welcome  to  the  job;  of  course  /  think  you  are  cranks,  but  that's 
your  lookout;  you  don't  hurt  me  any.  When  you  ask  me  to  pay 
for  your  rubbish,  that's  another  matter  entirely:  I'm  no  such 
fool.  Why,  my  constituents  would  kick  if  I  gave  a  dollar.  Those 
plutocrats  up  in  New  York  and  Chicago  can  build  museums  if 
they  want  to;  I  suppose  they've  got  to  have  some  kind  of  play- 
thing and  it  may  as  well  be  that  as  anything  else;  but  down 
here  we  don't  throw  away  our  money  so  freely.  Wisconsin? 
That's  the  state  where  those  fool  bolters  live,  aint  it?  Come  to 
think  of  it,  your  Milwaukee  had  a  socialist  mayor;  no  wonder 

16 


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they  have  a  museum.  That  rot  about  education  and  nature 
don't  catch  me  one  little  bit.  My  boy  is  going  to  a  sensible 
school  and  he'll  grow  up  to  be  an  intelligent  citizen  like  me." 

Of  course  such  words  refute  themselves.  But  observe  that, 
in  substance,  they  are  exactly  what  the  gentleman  urged;  the 
difference  is  in  language  and  manner.  If  the  cad  is  wrong  so  is 
the  gentleman;  if  both  are  right  then  all  that  I  have  been  urg- 
ing is  wrong,  and  museums  and  education  in  nature-lore  are 
not  worth  striving  for. 

In  point  of  fact,  each  thinks  that  he  is  right,  but  both  are 
wrong  because  the  reasoning  is  based  on  a  false  premise.  Beg- 
ging the  gentleman's  pardon  again — for  he  is  not  conscious  of 
it — he  is  in  very  bad  company;  his  is  the  old  plea  of  ignorance 
against  enlightenment,  and  a  few  years  hence  it  will  pass  into 
deserved  oblivion,  like  all  ignorant  thought.  It  is  obselete 
even  now;  if  our  gentleman  wishes  to  be  in  the  fashion  he 
should  change  his  ideas. 

We  Americans  are  prone  to  measure  the  value  of  every- 
thing in  dollars  and  cents.  Well,  it  has  been  proved  over  and 
over  again  that  science  makes  the  world  richer.  Geology  and 
mineralogy  are  indispensable  for  the  mining  engineer;  entomo- 
logy is  yearly  saving  immense  sums  for  the  farmers  and — what 
is  far  more  important — is  teaching  us  to  curb  disease  by  de- 
stroying the  insects  that  carry  it;  our  rivers  are  re-stocked  with 
fish,  our  oyster-beds  preserved,  our  game  and  fur  animals  saved 
from  extinction,  all  through  scientific  methods;  and  so  the  list 
might  go  on  for  pages.  Our  captains  of  industry  see  this  plain- 
ly and  are  employing  hundreds  of  scientific  experts;  every  large 
metal-plant  or  foundry  has  its  chemist  and  every  mining  enter- 
prise its  geologist;  nearly  all  the  great  wholesale  drug  houses 
have  herbaria,  often  very  extensive  ones,  with  skilled  botanists 
in  charge.  To  put  the  argument  in  a  nut-shell,  our  vast  ma- 
terial progress  is  the  direct  or  indirect  result  of  scientific  study. 
The  state  gives  some  money  to  science  and  individuals  give  far 
more;  but  if  they  gave  ten  times  as  much  they  would  not  be 
paying  a  hundredth  part  of  their  debt. 

Such  arguments  are  unanswerable  when  urged  for  the  scien- 
tific and  economic  branches  of  museum  work,  but  they  hardly 
apply  to  the  exhibition  rooms  or  to  museum  extension.  For  these 

17 


stand  on  a  higher  plane;  they  give  something  better  than  money, 
something  more  valuable  to  the  man  and  the  state.  This,  then, 
was  the  mistake  of  gentleman  and  politician  alike;  they  assum- 
ed that  nature  study  and  museums  give  nothing  because  they 
do  not  give  in  coin. 

Education  does,  indeed,  fit  us  for  the  struggle  of  life,  but 
it  does  more;  it  makes  for  a  higher  civilization,  a  nobler  and 
happier  community.  Even  money  is  good  only  for  what  it  will 
give,  and  it  cannot  give  everything  or  gauge  everything.  Can 
you  measure  in  dollars  the  value  of  Socrates  or  Marcus  Antoninus 
or  Goethe  or  Shakespeare?  Can  you  estimate  the  money  worth 
of  the  Pantheon,  the  Sistine  Madonna,  the  Venus  de  Milo,  the 
Cologne  Cathedral?  Is  a  city  any  the  poorer  because  it  pays  for 
a  fine  building  or  a  public  park?  Are  good  books  and  gems  of 
oratory  valueless?  Do  our  young  people  learn  music  and  danc- 
ing merely  to  turn  their  accomplishments  into  dollars? 

Because  people  love  literature  and  art,  it  does  not  follow 
that  literature  and  art  are  mere  luxuries.  The  world  cannot  do 
without  them  any  more  than  it  can  do  without  railroads  and 
schools;  in  a  thousand  ways  they  build  up  civilization  and  make 
us  happier.  Side  by  side  with  these,  her  sisters,  science  has 
been  growing  and  spreading  and  working  for  good.  With  the 
popularization  of  natural  science  has  come  a  love  of  nature 
study  for  its  own  sake;  it  is  a  cult,  with  an  army  of  votaries  all 
over  the  world.  This  is  its  real  value,  that  it  enlarges  and  en- 
nobles the  mind  and  so  makes  for  a  higher  and  yet  higher  civi- 
lization. The  mind  so  ennobled,  has  no  room  for  the  old,  sor- 
did thoughts;  the  good  drives  out  the  bad.  If  we  love  beauty 
in  a  picture  or  poem  we  want  it  in  our  daily  life;  if  we  have 
learned  to  revere  truth  in  nature  we  shall  carry  it  into  business 
and  politics. 

A  CONCRETE  EXAMPLE. 

In  1890  the  city  of  Pittsburg  was  already  one  of  the  richest 
in  America.  Its  people  were  good-natured,  and  generous  in  a 
lavish  fashion;  some  were  men  of  learning  and  worth;  but,  in 
the  main,  the  community  was  given  over  to  money-making. 
The  school  system  was  fairly  good  and  there  was  a  struggling 
university;  a  few  naturalists  had  united  to  form  a  scientific 

18 


society,  but  it  barely  existed  and  had  no  museum;  there  was  no 
large  public  library.  Rich  Pittsburghers,  if  they  could,  moved 
to  New  York  or  had  winter  residences  there;  they  regarded  their 
own  city  simply  as  a  workshop,  a  kind  of  necessary  evil. 

Soon  after  this  time,  through  the  munificence  of  Mr.  Andrew 
Carnegie,  the  Carnegie  Institute  was  opened;  it  combined  a  library 
with  an  art  gallery,  a  music-hall  and  a  museum.  Mrs.  Schenley 
donated  land  for  a  large  public  park,  and  Mr.  Phipps  added  a 
splendid  conservatory.  I  have  already  spoken  of  the  wonderful 
awakening  which  followed,  but  I  have  not  told  how  it  spread  to 
everything  and  transformed  the  city.  The  schools  were  vastly 
improved;  the  university  took  on  new  life  and  had  to  seek  new 
quarters;  popular  musical  taste  rose  from  dance-hall  to  orches- 
tra and  opera;  almost  everybody  wanted  books,  and  first-class 
lectures  were  crowded.  More  than  that,  the  people  suddenly 
became  aware  that  they  owed  a  duty  to  each  other,  and  they 
set  their  shoulders  bravely  to  a  score  of  needed  reforms.  Now 
Pittsburg  is  a  centre  of  activity  in  sanitary  and  tenement  work, 
the  fight  against  tuberculosis,  life-saving  in  the  mines  and  so 
on;  from  about  the  worst  governed  city  in  America  it  has  be- 
come a  fairly  good  and  clean  one.  Best  of  all,  the  people,  rich 
and  poor  alike,  are  proud  of  their  own  progress  and  mean  to  go 
a  great  deal  farther. 

I  do  not  say  that  all  this  was  owing  to  tha  Institute  and 
Schenley  Park,  but  I  do  say  that  they  were  the  main  influences. 
One  thing  about  the  Institute  is  well  worth  noting.  In  the  out- 
set the  museum  was  regarded  as  a  msre  adjunct  of  the  art-gal- 
lery, of  little  public  importance;  only  a  small  part  of  the  general 
income  was  devoted  to  it.  But  when  the  halls  were  opened  it 
was  found  that  the  museum  drew  two  people  where  the  pictures 
attracted  one;  its  rooms  were  crowded;  four  or  five  thousand 
visitors  in  a  day  was  no  unusual  number.  From  the  first,  also, 
it  was  noticeable  that  plain  people,  professional  and  business 
men,  workmen  and  their  families,  gravitated  to  the  museum 
rooms;  fashion  was  there,  but,  in  the  main,  society  folk  pre- 
ferred the  art-rooms.  Naturally,  there  was  a  small  struggle  for 
control  of  the  funds;  it  ended  in  an  equal  division  between  the 
two  departments.  Today,  I  believe,  the  masses  have  a  better 
appreciation  of  art;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  science  has  plenty 
of  votaries  in  the  society  clique. 

19 


OTHER  ASPECTS  OF  NATURE  STUDY. 

One  other  aspect  of  nature  study  should  be  mentioned. 
Education  is  not  a  mere  accumulation  of  facts;  it  is,  or  should 
be,  a  training.  Mathematics  are  valuable  partly  because  they 
give  keenness  and  precision,  history  because  it  tells  us  how  to 
reason  from  events,  art  because  it  cultivates  the  sense  of  beauty, 
and  so  on.  Natural  history  trains  our  powers  of  observation  as 
nothing  else  can,  and  it  teaches  us  to  reason  from  the  known 
to  the  unknown,  to  classify  and  distinguish — an  ability  of  more 
value  than  a  thousand  mere  facts. 

It  should  be  remembered,  also,  that  nature-study  is  a 
healthful  pursuit,  giving  plenty  of  exercise  in  the  open  air,  un- 
der the  best  conditions  and  with  keen  interest  to  keep  the  mind 
awake.  Naturalists  are  healthy  men  and  they  are  almost  pro- 
verbially long-lived.  I  remember  a  remark  of  Col.  Nicholas 
Pike — soldier,  civil-service  worker,  traveler  and  naturalist.  At 
the  age  of  75  he  was  just  starting  on  a  walk  of  200  miles  with 
his  wife,  a  lady  nearly  as  old  and  quite  as  enthusiastic  as  he 
was.  I  begged  them  not  to  attempt  too  much,  but  Col.  Pike 
only  laughed.  "Why,  my  tramps  keep  me  healthy,"  he  said ; 
"I  should  have  died  long  ago  without  them." 

THE  MUSEUM  OF  THE  GEOLOGICAL  SURVEY. 

The  Museum  of  the  Alabama  Geological  Survey  stands  in 
a  peculiar  position.  An  outcome  of  the  Survey,  it  is,  by  law, 
an  integral  part  of  the  University  of  Alabama ;  its  building,  the 
finest  museum  edifice  in  the  South,  was  erected  at  the  cost  of 
the  State;  its  collections,  unexcelled  south  of  the  Ohio,  are  large- 
ly derived  from  the  Survey,  but  with  important  additions  from 
other  sources  and  from  its  own  work.  Its  relations,  its  objects 
and  its  duties  are  therefore  complex.  It  is,  at  the  same  time,  a 
survey  museum,  the  home  and  workshops  of  survey  men,  a 
university  museum,  bound  to  do  its  part  in  university  educa- 
tion, and  a  state  museum,  with  obligations  to  the  entire  com- 
monwealth. At  present  it  has  no  funds  of  its  own,  but  is  sup- 
ported mainly  by  the  Survey,  the  University  defraying  certain 
expenses. 

The  great  museums  are  in  large  cities  and  hundreds  or 

20 


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thousands  of  people  visit  them  every  day ;  they  have  rich  en- 
dowments or  wealthy  patrons  and  can  afford  to  do  their  work 
on  a  magnificent  scale.  Our  building  is  on  the  University 
campus,  near  a  small  city ;  the  educational  work  of  our  exhibi- 
tion rooms  extends  to  the  students,  the  citizens  of  Tuscaloosa 
who  come  often,  and  outsiders  who  come  at  infrequent  inter- 
vals. Manifestly,  it  would  be  absurd  for  us  to  attempt  rivalry 
with  the  American,  Field  or  Carnegie  Museums,  or  the  Public 
Museum  of  Milwaukee ;  if  we  could  afford  them,  we  would 
be  foolish  to  show  twenty-thousand-dollar  group  cases  or 
long  series  of  huge  fossils  obtained  by  special  and  expensive  ex- 
peditions. But  it  is  no  less  manifest  that  we  should  be  effi- 
cient in  our  special  work  for  the  University.  To  do  this  we  should 
spend  thousands  where  the  great  museums  spend  millions, 
and  have  a  few  things  where  they  have  a  great  many.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  our  rooms  are  constantly  improving,  though 
they  are  yet  far  from  what  we  hope  to  make  them ;  many  of 
the  cases  are  arranged  for  convenient  reference  rather  than  as 
object  lessons.  The  most  urgent  needs  for  these  rooms  are 
some  large  casts,  a  series  of  glass  models,  two  or  three  group 
cases  of  birds,  and  table-cases  for  the  better  exhibition  of  small 
specimens ;  all  these  can  be  obtained  for  a  few  thousand  dollars, 
and  we  may  reasonably  hope  to  have  them  before  long. 

So  much  for  the  exhibition  rooms ;  but  in  the  other  branch 
of  work  we  accept  no  such  minor  position ;  the  youngest  of 
American  museums  this  is,  perhaps,  the  most  ambitious.  The 
great  city  museums  are  doing  first-rate  extension  work,  but,  so 
far,  it  is  confined  to  the  cities  themselves  and  their  immediate 
vicinities.  We  believe  that  ours  is  the  first  definite  attempt  to 
extend  museum  influence  over  an  entire  state.  The  truth  is, 
our  situation  made  such  work  imperative ;  we  could  not  reach 
a  large  number  of  people  through  our  exhibition  rooms  and  had 
to  do  it  in  some  other  way. 

Our  first  move  was  to  reach  the  public  schools.  Every 
museum  has  duplicate  specimens,  which  may  be  used  for  ex- 
change, but  most  of  them  are  never  used  at  all.  We  had  a  very 
large  number  of  fine  duplicates  and  we  planned  to  give  some  of 
them  to  high  schools  and  similar  institutions.  Such  schools 
often  have  small  collections,  generally  bought  from  dealers; 

21 


but,  almost  always,  the  specimens  are  inferior  and  there  are 
not  enough  to  illustrate  even  the  main  groups.  From  the  first, 
we  determined  to  give  large  and  fine  sets,  carefully  labeled  and 
classified.  This  meant  the  selection  and  arrangement  of  many 
thousand  specimens  for  each  school,  and  the  whole  had  to  be 
done  in  the  intervals  of  regular  museum  work ;  of  course  such 
a  task  could  not  be  accomplished  in  one  year,  or  two.  The 
plan,  therefore,  was  to  make  the  gift  by  instalments,  to  go  on 
from  year  to  year  indefinitely,  and  to  issue  such  sets  to  25 
schools.  Each  instalment  was  to  represent,  as  far  as  possible, 
one  group.  Each  specimen  was  to  be  numbered  to  correspond 
with  its  label,  so  that,  if  they  were  accidentally  separated,  they 
could  easily  be  brought  together  again  even  by  an  unskilled 
person. 

The  first  instalment  sent  out  consisted  of  marine  univalve 
shells,  159  species,  represented  by  about  500  specimens,  for  each 
school.  The  specimens  were  fine,  and  such  a  series,  if  pur- 
chased of  a  dealer,  would  have  cost  about  $150  at  a  conservative 
estimate ;  that  is,  for  the  25  schools,  the  specimens  alone  of 
this  first  instalment  had  a  money  value  of  $3,750.  Each  species 
had  a  printed  label,  and  there  were  36  large  explanatory  labels 
corresponding  to  the  orders  and  families.  The  specimens  were 
in  neat  trays ;  each  label  was  glued  to  a  sloping  block  slipping 
into  the  tray,  so  that  the  whole  was  ready  for  exhibition.  A 
printed  pamphlet  gave  directions  for  arrangement. 

Schools  accepting  a  collection  agreed  to  pay  for  transporta- 
tion and  to  provide  proper  cabinets  or  cases ;  the  Museum  de- 
frayed the  cost  of  trays,  labels,  etc.,  for  the  first  instalment  of 
specimens,  but  the  schools  agreed  to  pay,  at  cost  price,  for  such 
outside  material  required  in  future.  As  long  as  these  condi- 
tions are  fulfilled  the  collection  is  the  property  of  the  school, 
but  subject  to  the  general  supervision  and  control  of  the  Museum, 
and  it  cannot  be  sold  or  given  away  without  the  consent  of  the 
Museum  Director.  If  conditions  are  violated  by  the  school  the 
collection  may  be  reclaimed. 

It  should  be  remembered  that  marine  gastropods  —the  only 
group  included  in  the  first  instalment — are  only  a  part  of  the 
mollusca ;  there  remain  the  bivalves,  all  the  land  and  fresh 
water  shells  and  the  cephalopods,  and  we  propose  to  give  special 

22 


and  fuller  sets  of  the  Alabama  species.  But  conchology  is  only 
one  branch;  we  expect  to  include  insects,  Crustacea,  corals, 
echinoderms,  at  least  some  birds  and  other  vertebrates,  and 
probably  plants.  Geology  will  have  a  prominent  place ;  there 
will  be  specimens  of  rocks,  ores,  minerals,  fossils,  etc. ;  probably 
the  second  instalment  will  consist  of  Alabama  fossils.  In  fact, 
we  are  planning  for  25  branch  museums,  to  be  built  up  gradu- 
ally in  widely  separated  parts  of  Alabama. 

The  schools  have  been  chosen  with  care,  for  their  im- 
portance and  also  to  distribute  the  collections  as  evenly  as 
possible.  Private  and  denominational  institutions  were  exclud- 
ed, though  several  are  of  great  merit ;  we  felt  that  our  duty  lay 
to  the  public  ones.  The  normal  schools  are  to  receive  special 
sets  later  on.  From  first  to  last  there  has  been  no  hint  of 
favoritism ;  we  have  simply  tried  to  place  the  coilections  where 
they  would  do  the  most  good. 

The  reception  of  our  gifts  was  gratifying.  Teachers  were 
enthusiastic  in  their  praise ;  local  newspapers  were  quick  to  see 
the  advantages  accruing  to  their  towns  and  schools,  and  they 
gave  a  good  deal  of  space  to  the  plan,  already  widely  heralded 
by  the  more  important  city  journals.  Of  course  there  were  ex- 
ceptions ;  some  schools  were  indifferent ;  some  declined  the  gift ; 
two  or  three  did  not  even  take  the  trouble  to  send  an  answer 
to  our  offer ;  one  principal  wrote  that  it  would  be  unjust  to  make 
his  school  pay  for  a  cabinet.  Every  new  scheme  must  expect 
such  rebuffs,  but  we  had  very  few ;  approval  was  clear,  and 
there  was  an  immediate  awakening  of  interest  all  over  the 
state.  This  was  shown  by  numerous  letters,  including  not  a 
few  from  schools  which  begged  for  a  share  in  the  distribution. 
Latterly  these  requests  have  become  so  numerous  that  we  have 
decided  to  issue  additional  sets  as  soon  as  possible. 

The  next  step  was  to  make  these  gifts  permanently  use- 
ful. A  school  collection  may  serve  to  illustrate  lectures  and 
lessons,  but  it  will  not  arouse  enthusiasm  until  the  pupils  them- 
selves are  interested  in  building  it  up.  At  our  suggestion,  most 
of  the  schools  have  pupil  custodians,  chosen  by  vote.  The  cus- 
todian has  charge  of  the  collection  and  is  expected  to  add  to  it 
by  specimens  which  he  or  his  comrades  may  find;  he  corres- 
ponds with  the  Curator  of  this  Museum,  who  tries,  by  every 

23 


means,  to  promote  taste  for  nature  study.  Of  course  the  in- 
fluence cannot  be  felt  in  a  day,  nor  is  the  plan  always  success- 
ful; but  the  results  in  many  cases  have  been  more  than  en- 
couraging. Some  of  these  custodians  are  already  enthusiastic 
amateur  naturalists  and  their  comrades  catch  the  spirit  from 
them;  in  several  schools  the  pupils  are  adding  almost  daily  to 
their  museum  and  have  an  evident  pride  in  it. 

These  school  museums  are  seen  by  many  parents  and 
other  outsiders;  but  the  larger  cities  should  have  public  mu- 
seums, where  the  exhibition  rooms  will  be  really  educative.  We 
are  already  planning  branches  for  Montgomery,  Birmingham 
and  Mobile.  In  the  latter  city  we  are  working  in  conjunction  with 
the  Charles  Mohr  Society,  a  thriving  and  enthusiastic  circle  of 
naturalists;  collections  have  been  formed  and  arranged,  and  the 
Society  is  building  up  a  working  library.  At  present  the  speci- 
mens are  in  very  modest  quarters  and  have  only  bsen  shown 
on  a  few  occasions;  negotiations  are  in  progress  for  their  trans- 
fer to  a  public  institution,  and  it  is  probable  that  Mobile  will 
soon  have  a  good  public  museum. 

Meanwhile,  we  are  not  forgetting  the  undercurrent — per- 
sonal aid  and  influence.  Ours  is  missionary  work  and  we  must 
make  our  opportunities,  helping  not  only  those  who  come  to  us, 
but  seeking  them  out,  cultivating  every  promising  field.  At  the 
University,  students  are  invited  to  our  laboratories  and  encour- 
aged to  do  practical  work  in  the  field.  Arrangements  have  been 
made  to  meet  some  of  the  custodians  in  a  camping  and  collect- 
ing trip.  More  than  one  amateur  traces  his  interest  to  us.  It 
is  clear  that  the  awakening  has  come  for  Alabama;  the  increase 
of  interest  is  manifest  and  growing  all  over  the  state.  Nature 
study  is  here  and  it  is  here  to  stay. 

Large  museums  count  their  income  in  five  or  six  figures; 
even  small  towns  are  spending  generous  sums,  because  they  are 
convinced  of  the  value  of  museum  work.  Until  now  the  re- 
sources of  the  Survey  Museum— which  is  really  the  State  Mu- 
seum of  Natural  Science — have  been  absurdly  inadequate  for 
the  task.  It  is  the  simple  truth  that  our  plans  are  more  far- 
reaching  than  those  of  any  similar  institution,  and  they  have 
met  with  marked  success.  To  make  them  complete  we  should 
have  some  improvements  in  the  museum  itself,  and  closer  and 

24 


more  effective  relations  with  the  schools.  For  example,  we 
should  be  able  to  give  school  lectures  with  stereopticon  illus- 
trations, and  there  should  be  regular  field  excursions  under  our 
supervision;  but  at  present  we  cannot  carry  out  the  plans  be- 
cause we  have  no  funds. 

It  would  be  unjust  and,  indeed,  illegal  to  burden  the  Geo- 
logical Survey  with  the  expenses  of  such  outside  work.  It  would 
be  equally  unjust  to  throw  the  burden  on  the  University;  it 
needs  all  its  resources,  and  more,  for  other  things.  It  seems 
clear  to  me  that  the  Museum  should  have  an  endowment  of  its 
own.  Until  this  can  be  secured  it  should  receive  a  sufficient 
special  appropriation  from  the  state,  as  other  state  museums 
do.  I  am  not  claiming  that  museums  are  the  most  important 
of  public  institutions,  but  I  do  hold,  and  think  I  have  proved, 
that  they  are  one  of  the  strongest  influences  for  good;  that  they 
educate  the  people  and  make  for  a  higher  civilization.  Our 
own  Museum,  perhaps,  is  doing  more  than  its  share ;  certainly 
it  deserves  support  and  encouragement. 


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THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


JUL   3.7    1937 

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py* 

iFnVWMtff 

F?  Cr  -  -  , 

KEC  U  LD 

- 

REC.  CIJL     APR 

1 

LD  21-100m-8,'34 

YC  322 1 1 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


